Disorder
by Dramaholic74
Summary: Victoire pays Teddy a visit and comes to a startling realization. Ties in with Spiraling, but can stand alone.


Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling.

A/N: As mentioned in the summary, this fic ties in with "Spiraling." If you haven't read that one, go do it, but this fic can stand alone.

He tastes like strawberries today. Most of the time he tastes like mint, but the strawberry flavored gum is a nice change. You love strawberries, though you don't love the knowledge that the gum barely masks the scent of vomit on his breath. You don't love knowing that he probably threw up mere minutes before you arrived at his apartment. You step back and notice that he's wearing one of his father's old jumpers. Never a good sign. You mentally brace yourself; today will not be a good day.

"Hi, love." He smiles, but the grin doesn't reach his eyes. His voice is void of all emotion, and your heart breaks. If there's anyone who deserves to be happy, it's him. His own mind refuses to let him see that, though. His mind tears itself apart from the inside out, and there's nothing you can do to help him. He seems to waste away more and more every time you see him, physically, mentally, and emotionally.

"Hi, Teddy." Your voice sounds much too chipper. You feel anything but. He's nothing but skin and bone. His old, knitted brown sweater hangs off of him, and you know that his jeans are being held up only by a belt. His face is hallow, though his cheeks remain puffy. His curly brown hair has thinned. You miss the days when his hair was blue. He laughed and smiled, and everything was good. Now his hair is brown, and he rarely laughs or smiles and you want to cry every time you see him. It became so bad, so quick.

 _He's sick, Vic, he's sick and this isn't his fault._

You thought he was skinny the last time he relapsed, but that was nothing compared to now. Surely he must be underweight, though you don't dare say that to him. There was no such thing as "too thin" in his mind. He was fat, no matter what anybody else said to him. You wish that you could change what he sees in the mirror. But you can't.

"Did you, er, have a good term?"

You jump and mentally reprimand yourself. _Stop thinking about it, Vic._ "Yeah, it was good, thanks. I want to puke every time I think about NEWTs though, so don't even ask if I've started revising yet because the answer is no."

Teddy laughs. It's not as big and hearty as it used to be, but you know it's genuine. "That bad, huh?" He takes your hand and rubs his thumb over it. You want to pull away, because his hand is freezing, but you don't. His cold hand only serves to remind you that he's sick, that he's _dying_ , but you crave some normalcy, so you hold his hand even while your head screams _His body is shutting down._

"Don't worry about NEWTs, Vicky. You're smart. I know you'll do well."

You find it ironic that he, of all people, is telling you not to worry, but you keep quiet. "Eh, there's always Clown College, right?"

Teddy snorts. "True. You were always freaky enough to be a clown."

You smack him on the arm, but you laugh anyway. Sometimes, pieces of Teddy come through. Most of what makes Teddy, Teddy is shoved behind his anxiety, depression, and bulimia, but you live for moments like this.

"Not true. I can't morph my nose into a duck's."

The grin disappeared from Teddy's face. "Well, I can't exactly do that either…"

You want to smack yourself. You forget about Teddy's inability to morph sometimes, and you know how he feels about not being able to.

"Teddy, I-"

"No, it's fine." The fake smile makes its way to his face again. "Do you…er…Do you want anything to eat?"

You can feel the awkwardness. You always make sure to eat before coming over to visit Teddy. Sometimes, you feel awkward for eating when he isn't. Or he feels awkward for eating when you aren't. Sometimes he eats, and he closes himself off, panicking over not being able to rid himself of the food. Other times, he doesn't care if you're around and he'll go throw up anyway ( _He does care, it's the eating disorder that doesn't care, you idiot_ ). You don't know which scenario is worse.

"No thanks. I ate before I came." He knows this. You go through this routine every time you come, but you often have to remind himself that his memory is almost nonexistent. He keeps a notebook on his coffee table and sets reminders on his mobile to remind himself of important days and events coming up. If he didn't keep up with setting himself reminders, he'd never remember that Roxanne's birthday party was on Friday or that everyone was to meet at the Burrow at 4 o'clock sharp next Tuesday for Christmas dinner.

Teddy sighs. "I was about to ask you something, but I forgot what it was."

You sigh to yourself. You just want things to go back to how they used to be, before Teddy's relapse. It's been two years since then. How much longer can this possibly go on until his body gives out? You've done your research. You know what could happen. What if the purging leads to a heart attack? Or what if he tries to kill himself and it works? You know that you'll be crying yourself to sleep tonight. You don't think this way often, but when you do, it's bad. Usually you go home, place a Silencing charm on your door, and sob uncontrollably. You know that Teddy will die if he doesn't get help soon, but you know that he doesn't want help. He doesn't care anymore, you've heard him say it yourself. The man you love wants to die, and he doesn't care if this eating disorder will kill him.

You know you're about to lose control, so you make up an excuse and tell Teddy that you need to go. He looks disappointed, but he nods and walks you to the door. You pull him close and breathe in the scent of his cologne. You can feel every bone in his spine, and that just makes you want to leave even more. He gives you a kiss, and the scent of vomit still lingers just underneath the now flavorless gum. The tears spring to your eyes. You tell Teddy that you love him, and you don't wait for a response before you Disapperate.

You place the Silencing charm on your door, collapse onto your bed, and begin sobbing uncontrollably. You just saw him in September. In those four months, he's gotten so much worse. You know he needs help, and soon. You can't bear the thought of Teddy dying; it's too much to even think about. The thought weighs heavily on your mind, now more than ever. You try to be strong, he needs you, but today, you allow yourself to curl up in a ball and do nothing but cry.

Your boyfriend, the love of your life, your soulmate, is dying. And there's nothing you can do to stop it.


End file.
